When Harry Met Thomas
by IvyJaneLily
Summary: Cora's brother, Harold Levinson, comes to stay at Downton Abbey, but is he really the playboy womaniser he makes himself out to be? Set around 6 months after CS. (Harold is based around both: the limited description of his character in S3 - he loves fast yachts and is too busy to discover if he is happy - and the personality/looks of Jack Harkness of Dr Who/Torchwood).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first chapter of my new fic! It took me a while to write, as it's always difficult writing the first chapter, plus I've got a lot of the characters in it, which always makes it more of a challenge. Rated T for now, but will most likely progress to M later on.**

* * *

It was a bright and blustery autumn morning at Downton Abbey. The sun was streaming in through the elaborate drapes in Lord and Lady Grantham's bedroom, and O'Brien set down Cora's breakfast on her lap, taking care not to spill anything.

Cora looked up at her maid appreciatively. "Thank you, O'Brien." She opened up a letter that had arrived that morning, expecting it to be from her mother as it had been stamped in New York.

Cora read the letter and exclaimed in delight. Robert, who was reading the paper, looked at her, startled.

"Are you quite all right, my dear?" He asked, concerned.

Cora didn't reply straight away, continuing to read the letter in its entirety. Once finished, she looked up.

"Can you believe it? Harold is coming to stay!"

Robert furrowed his brow. "Your _brother_ Harold?"

"Yes, of course my brother Harold! He simply states that he has been cooped up in America for far too long, and he wishes to visit Europe. Well, England at least. He would very much like to come here and meet the girls, and of course little Sybbie and baby George. Isn't that marvellous?"

Robert had met Harold only once, when he and Cora got married. A handsome womaniser who spent money like it was going out of fashion, Robert wasn't overly thrilled at the prospect.

"Of course it's marvellous! When is he coming over?"

"Next month, if convenient. I shall write back straight away and tell him he is of course more than welcome to stay!" Cora was delighted. She had not seen her brother in so long; she had almost forgotten what he looked like.

A thought suddenly occurred to Robert. "Is your mother coming over, too?"

"No, just Harold. I don't think he needs supervision now he's in his mid forties, do you?"

_Well, _thought Robert. _That's a relief, anyway. One Levinson at a time is more than enough._ Cora looked over at him, her face a picture of happiness. _Except my Cora, of course. But then again - she's a Crawley now!_

* * *

Cora shared the news with the rest of the family at dinner that evening. She could barely contain her excitement; Mary was almost convinced her mother was about to announce she was pregnant again, a thought that quite put her off her roast lamb.

"Everyone - I have some good news!" Cora beamed at the family sitting around the dining table. Jimmy, who was serving wine to Edith, pricked his ears up. Part of a good footman's job was to relay gossip downstairs to the servants, of course. Even Carson was listening intently, although he always pretended not to.

"Oh, Mama? What is it?" Asked Edith, smiling at her mother.

"My brother is coming to stay next month! You girls have never met your Uncle Harold – he hasn't been over to England since your father and I were married."

The Dowager Lady Grantham looked up from her lamb, a look of disdain upon her face. "I thought that he hated to leave America, or so Mrs Levinson would have us believe, at least?"

Robert looked at his mother, agreeing with her sentiments. "Maybe America has run out of young women for him to seduce!" He said, with a chuckle.

Cora gave him a look of most displeasure. He straightened his face quickly. "Well – there aren't a lot of yachts in Yorkshire, are there? Won't be he be bored?"

"Well, I think it will be lovely to meet him at last. He has always been such an enigma in this family!" Said Mary, raising her eyebrows.

"I agree!" Concurred Edith. "He's always sounded like such a jolly character. How long is he going to be staying for, Mama?"

"A month, I believe. He may want to visit London whilst he's here, but I think he will spend the majority of the time here in Yorkshire. It will be a shock for him – Yorkshire is a little different from New York!" Cora laughed to herself.

Rose heaved a huge sigh, setting down her glass of wine.

"What's the matter Rose? Are you quite well?" Mary asked, looking at her younger cousin.

"I think Uncle Harold is probably a little _old _for Cousin Rose here to be interested!" Said Edith, rolling her eyes at Rose's disinterest.

The Dowager Countess leaned over and lowered her voice, so only Edith could hear. "I think maybe Harold is a little too _unmarried_ for Rose to be interested!"

Edith smiled at her grandmother, and pretended to find the jibe amusing. However, Edith's own heart ached for her married lover, Michael Gregson, and she found she couldn't completely enjoy the joke as much as she wanted.

* * *

Later that evening, the servants sat down for their own dinner, although it most definitely _wasn't _roast lamb. Thomas, as under-butler, and Jimmy, as first footman, sat together at the table. Since the events of the summer - when Thomas had taken a beating for Jimmy, and the latter had promised his friendship - the two of them could often be found sharing a joke or two, usually at O'Brien or Alfred's expense.

Thomas was laughing at Jimmy, who was doing a splendid impression of the Dowager giving a scathing look, and suddenly Jimmy remembered exactly why it was she had scrunched her face up so disdainfully.

"Oh yes, now I remember! Apparently Lady Grantham's brother is coming to stay next month – she was ever so excited about it. He hasn't been over since before the girls were born, and he sounds like a right character," said Jimmy.

"The elusive Harold Levinson," said Thomas, looking interested. "It might cheer the house up a little bit. Everyone's been a little down in the mouth since Mr Crawley went and snuffed it."

"Mr Barrow, please show some respect to Lady Mary!" Boomed Carson, as protective as ever towards his favourite Crawley sister. Moving onto the subject at hand, he continued. "Mr Levinson is due to arrive in two weeks. I do hope, however, that he is not as brash an American as was suggested at dinner. The last thing Downton needs is a _womanising playboy_ strutting about the place."

At Carson's choice of words, several of the maids looked up from their dinners. Carson pretended not to notice; he didn't want to warn them against fraternising with their guest – he knew from experience with Ethel and Edna that forbidding them to talk to men would only encourage it further.

"Oh yes, apparently he is a bit of a ladies' man, if His Lordship's reaction is anything to go by!" Jimmy laughed.

"Worried about the competition, are we, Jimmy?" Thomas teased, jabbing Jimmy in the ribs. Once upon a time, Jimmy would have shirked awkwardly, lowering his eyes and inching away from Thomas. But things were different now; Jimmy had matured, and he accepted that Thomas expected nothing more than friendship. Every so often, he would look into Thomas' eyes and see a hint of pain there, and it hurt to know that he was the cause of it. But then Thomas would smile; the pain would disappear, and Jimmy would forget. He had certainly forgiven Thomas for his sins, and Thomas had forgiven him. The other servants were bemused and mystified by their new-found friendship, but they much preferred it to icy stares and awkward silences, so accepted it as best they could.

"Me? Worried? I don't think so! He's got to be, what, almost fifty?! No contest there!" Jimmy scoffed.

"So speaks the voice of youth!" Thomas said, looking around the table at the servants who were on the verge of fifties themselves, gauging their reactions. "Still flirting at fifty years of age? It's a bloody disgrace!" The sarcasm was completely lost on Jimmy.

"I know, it's disgusting! People that age shouldn't even be _thinking_ about things like that! Oh..." Jimmy realised that Thomas was setting him up to insult nearly half the servants, who were glaring at him. He changed his tack slightly. "I mean, shouldn't he be married by now...?"

"I think the phrase 'to quit whilst you're ahead' is probably the most appropriate one here, James," said Carson, looking unimpressed, and slightly pinkish.

"Sorry Mr Carson," apologised Jimmy, going back to his food; not before giving a sideways glance at Thomas who was snorting into his dinner.

"Hmm," muttered Carson, still not completely satisfied by the over-confidence of his first footman. "However, it does raise the subject of Mr Levinson's visit. Mr Barrow – you may be required to be his valet – depending on whether he brings his own or not, so I expect you to be up to the task."

Thomas closed his eyes and groaned quietly.

"What's the matter, Thomas?" Mr Bates had always declined to acknowledge Thomas' status as under-butler, and refused to address him as such. "Is valeting beneath you now?"

"No, Mr Bates, it is not," Thomas said, opening his eyes and smiling falsely at the valet. "But I sincerely hope Mr Levinson brings his own valet. The last thing I want to do is run around after an American _playboy_...they are always the worst. Arrogant, vain and demanding."

O'Brien, not one to miss such a great opportunity, piped up. "Well, then. I would expect you two to get on like a house on fire!"

Mrs Patmore entered the servants' dining room with Daisy to take away the empty plates. "Whose house is on fire? Is Mr Branson rediscovering his revolutionary side?"

Alfred chuckled at Mrs Patmore's attempt at a joke. "We're just talking about Mr Levinson coming to visit next month. Apparently he's quite fond of the ladies."

"Is he, now?" She muttered, showing little interest. "I hope he's not as demanding about his food as his mother. Tell me - is Mrs Levinson going to be with him?"

"No, just him I think." Mrs Patmore nodded happily – the last thing she needed was to start buying goats' milk in especially. She scuttled out of the dining room as Alfred continued. "It's a shame – I was rather hoping she'd be coming over too." Alfred looked disappointed, prompting interest from several of the servants.

"And why's that, dare I ask, Alfred?" asked his aunt, eyeing him suspiciously.

Alfred turned a slide shade of pink and having to admit to his aunt what he had been thinking. "Well, I was hoping she'd come over and bring her maid with her. She was quite something, was Reed."

For some reason Daisy looked quite pleased that Mrs Levinson was _not_ coming over; but for entirely different reasons to Mrs Patmore. She smiled at Alfred, but his mind was thinking back to Reed, and her American forwardness he had been so fond of. Thomas noted the lack of response from Alfred, and his heart went out to Daisy. He, too, knew how it felt when the object of his desires pretended he didn't exist. He just counted himself lucky that Jimmy was his friend now, even if it was painful at times. He smiled sympathetically at Daisy; she shrugged her shoulders at him, and departed the kitchen.

Thomas had grown really fond of Daisy – ever since she had deciphered Mrs Patmore's constant hints about him not being interested in her, she had been like a little sister to him. Or more to the point, he had been like a big brother to her. He made a mental note to talk to her; impart some of his wisdom about doomed relationships. Anything to distract himself from the thought of having to valet a man whom Thomas was sure he'd take an instant disliking to.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Obviously, the next chapter will be more eventful – Harry arrives! **

**P.S. Did you notice I used the newly-discovered baby name for Baby Crawley? That leak was well-timed indeed! J**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's chapter 2, folks! Harry arrives! Oh, and bonus points if you can spot the actor quote!**

* * *

The day before Harold Levinson was due to arrive, the servants were gathered round the table in the servants' hall, late in the evening, all chatting excitedly about the new visitor. The maids and female staff appeared to be the most excited; Thomas, decidedly, was not. He lit up and cigarette and took a long drag, inhaling the hot smoke deep into his lungs.

"What's up with your face? Anyone would think the devil himself were coming to visit the way you're looking at the moment!" Jimmy sat down opposite him, trying to lighten the misery of his friend.

"I'd rather the devil himself _were_ coming to stay – it'd be much more interesting. 'The devil always has better tunes!' " Thomas raised a half smile at the quote, but couldn't remember where he'd heard it from.

Jimmy looked confused. "Er...whatever you say, Thomas!" Jimmy was the only servant whom Thomas allowed to call him by his first name still. Since his promotion to under-butler, he'd made a habit of correcting everyone else, even the residents of the house he served. It infuriated him that Bates didn't address him as 'Mr Barrow', but he did his best not to react – he knew it would only encourage Bates to do it more. "I think he might be interesting. Dinners were always more fun to serve when Mrs Levinson was around! Even when she came over for Mr Crawley's funeral, she managed to fit in a sing-song. Proper entertaining, she was..."

Just at that moment, O'Brien appeared at the door. Well, at least, Thomas _thought _it was O'Brien.

"Blimey! What have you done to your hair?" Alfred dropped the hand of cards he had been staring at, and gaped at his aunt. The servants who previously had their backs to the door all turned round to look.

A housemaid stifled a giggle; a hallboy buried his snort into his hands. Carson looked utterly horrified by the sight before him. He opened his mouth to talk but Mrs Hughes frowned at him, leaving him opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

O'Brien's hair, once dark and curled atop her head like an elaborate tea cosy, was now a voluminous shade of orange. It had been cut short, like the ladies in Paris were sporting fashionable these days. There was nothing fashionable about O'Brien's coiffure, however.

"Yes, thank you Alfred, I would kindly ask you to keep your trap shut, if you know what's good for you." O'Brien had gone a deep shade of red, and she sat down at the table, her head down and her face burning.

"Well, I think we've seen everything now!" Whispered Jimmy to Thomas, who had a smug expression on his face as he watched his nemesis as embarrassed as he had ever seen her. "What do you reckon possessed her to do _that_ to her hair?"

Thomas bent in close to Jimmy's ear. "I might have heard a whisper from Mrs Hughes that O'Brien was getting rather excited at meeting Her Ladyship's philandering excuse of a brother. Wants to impress him. She _was _hoping for a dashing shade of red."

"_Dashing shade of red?!_ More like a flaming shade of orange!" Jimmy couldn't help laughing, albeit as quietly as he could.

"There is one advantage to her new hairstyle, however," commented Thomas, putting out his cigarette.

"Oh yes, and what's that? Is it because she now looks more like her lanky excuse of a footman nephew? I would say that was a distinct disadvantage!" Jimmy retorted.

"Ha!" Thomas laughed, pleased that Jimmy had the same view of both O'Brien and Alfred as he did. "Actually, I was going to say that at least now she won't be able to sneak up on anyone any more – you'll see that beacon a mile away!"

Jimmy grinned and shook his head. He never knew just how much fun it would be to have Thomas as a friend. It was strange, but he was almost thankful Thomas had been beaten up, in a bizarre kind of way. It had brought them closer, and had forced them to clear the air. _Maybe I'll tell him what I should have told him over a year ago,_ he thought. _Maybe he can handle it now._

* * *

The next day arrived, and the servants hurried about their usual tasks. Carson had asked all the servants, with the obvious exclusions of the kitchen staff and hallboys, to attend the arrival of Harold Levinson with the family in front of the house. Carson was always a little perturbed by the arrival of a rich American, and he wanted the house to look as grand and intimidating as it could.

Thomas lined up outside between Mrs Hughes and Bates, and was feeling very pleased about being given priority over Bates in the hierarchy this time. It also meant he didn't have to stand next to O'Brien and her ridiculous hair. Mrs Hughes had attempted to help her darken the colour, and now it was an interesting mixture of black and orange. _Like a tiger, but with a great deal less beauty_, thought Thomas.

The family were chatting excitedly opposite the servants, and Cora Crawley was straining her eyes into the distance to see if she could spot a car.

After what seemed like an hour or so, to Thomas at least, a car appeared on the horizon, speeding towards where they stood on the drive. A shiny red Duesenberg roared up to them, coming to an abrupt halt by the front of the house. Thomas was astounded to see that only one person occupied the car; Harold had arrived alone.

Jimmy opened the door on the driver's side, slightly confused as to what the protocol should be, when the guest was not sitting on the passenger side as per the usual welcome.

Thomas looked up to view the man who was stepping out of the car, declining Jimmy's help. He was tall, as dark-haired as his older sister, and had sparkly blue eyes and pearly white teeth, which had appeared as soon as he saw his sister, breaking into a wide grin.

"Cora! My darling, how lovely to see you!" He opened his arms and embraced her, pulling her close.

"Harry! It's so nice to see you, it's been far too long!" Cora did not care for formalities as far as her brother was concerned, and was only too pleased when he lifted her off of her feet in a whirling hug. Thomas was sure he heard Carson cough in disgust.

Removing herself from her brother, Cora introduced the family.

"You remember Robert, of course?" She said, gesturing her husband. Robert put on what he hoped was a sincere smile, and took Harold's hand.

"Harold, my dear fellow! How are you?"

"Please, call me Harry! Harold makes me sound old!" Harry said, with a roll of his eyes. "Only my mother calls me Harold, and that's usually only when I've done something naughty!"

Not knowing quite how to respond to his outgoing brother-in-law, Robert laughed politely and stepped backwards.

"Harry! Come and meet my girls! This is Mary, our eldest," Cora gestured towards Mary, who was holding George. She formed her lips into a smile, but her eyes betrayed her; dressed in black, she was still in pain.

Harry knew of the tragedy, having received many tear-stained letters from his sister at the time. He lessened his smile and took Mary's hand, putting his lips to it delicately. "Mary, pleased to meet you. And this is young George, I assume?" He put his hand up to George, and let the baby curl his hand around his finger.

Mary eyed him curiously. "You assume rightly." Looking up at Harry, she could see the sincerity in his eyes and softened her hard exterior slightly. "It's good to meet you at last, Uncle. Mama has told us lots about you, of course."

"I hope not!" He replied, looking guiltily over at his sister. "I doubt much of it is suitable for your delicate English ears!" He laughed, looking around to see if anyone else was amused. Unsurprisingly, they were not.

"This is Edith!" Cora hurried the introductions along, indicating her second daughter.

"Aha, Edith! Your mother tells me you're a journalist!" Harry took her hand and kissed it with a little more gusto than with Mary.

"Pleased to meet you, Uncle. Yes, I do a little writing here and there, it's nothing really!" Edith replied modestly.

"Nonsense! Your mother is very proud of you, she's always talking of you in her letters. It's very modern of you - I have the feeling we will get along well!"

Edith blushed and looked at her mother. She had no idea Cora had taken such an interest in her job at the paper. Cora returned her smile – she had always had a difficult relationship with her middle daughter, and maybe she didn't tell her often enough how proud she was of her fierce independence. It was difficult when so much else was happening in the house.

Cora moved along the line to Tom, who was shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"This is Tom, dear Sybil's husband. He takes care of the farms for us, and has been a bit of a rock since Matthew..." Cora trailed off, not wanting to speak any further on the painful subject.

"Pleased to meet you, Tom!" Said Harry, holding out his hand, which Tom shook.

Cora looked around for Rose, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"I would introduce you to Cousin Rose, but she has failed to grace us with her presence. It is so like her to be obstinate. She is a bit of a handful, if you know what I mean!" Cora frowned at her brother in apology.

"Don't worry about it – I'm sure I'll meet the kid at some point during my stay!"

Moving over to the servants' side, Cora waved a hand towards Carson. "This is Carson, our butler, and Mrs Hughes, our housekeeper. We'd be lost without them!"

Carson nodded and Mrs Hughes smiled, both unsure how to approach this bold visitor.

"How do you do?" Said Harry, and cast his eye over the servants, winking at the maids and making them blush. Robert stepped in before Harry decided he wanted to kiss all of _their_ hands, too.

"I see you have not brought a valet with you – can I offer you our under-butler, Barrow?" He gestured towards Thomas, whose face remained unchanged, staring straight ahead. Levinson was irritating him already, and they hadn't exchanged any words yet.

Harry looked over towards Bates, mistaking him for Thomas. He eyed the portly man with disinterest. "I don't think I will require the services of a valet during my stay, Robert. I don't have one at home – why would I need one here?"

Robert bristled at Harry's informality. "No, I insist. Barrow here will be more than happy to see to you during his stay, won't you Barrow?"

Thomas nodded dutifully, and registered the surprise (_and, dare he say it, curiosity?_) in Harry's face when he realised that _he_ was indeed Barrow, not the older man standing next to him. Harry appeared to be reconsidering his earlier refusal.

"Oh! Well, if you insist. When in Rome..." Harry caught Thomas' gaze and Thomas felt a shiver down his spine. He hadn't really noticed it until now, but with their faces only a metre or so apart, he could see that Harry was extremely good-looking. His blue eyes were crystal clear, and his hair fell across his face in the same way that Thomas' did when freshly washed. Thomas felt a strange twisting in his stomach, one he hadn't felt since...

"Rose! How nice of you to join us!" Cora exclaimed at the sight of the young tearaway who had resigned herself to join them. Rose caught sight of Harry and beamed. She had been expecting a stuffy old man, not one of Harry's stature.

Harry, who had been penetrating Thomas' face with his eyes, whipped his head around, eager to meet the last remaining member of the family.

"And this must be young Rose!" He strode over to her, taking her hand with an exaggerated gusto. He planted a kiss on it, causing her to giggle and blush. "What a picture of beauty! I do hope we're not too closely related..." He said with a wink.

"Pleased to meet you, Uncle Harold!" she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, please, do NOT call me Uncle Harold again or I shall end it all now!" He said, still smiling. "Just call me Harry!"

"So sorry, _Harry!_" Rose was beside herself. Robert rolled his eyes, giving Cora a look that said quite firmly, _Keep him away from her!_

Cora dragged Harry's arm away and took him into the house., chattering to him animatedly. Carson instructed Jimmy and Alfred to take Harry's things to his room, but Thomas stepped in.

"Shall I take his things up with Jimmy, I mean, James – I can lay his clothes out for tonight and make sure he has everything," said Thomas, trying to appear helpful.

Carson narrowed his eyes in surprise; Thomas had not hidden the fact that he was dreading this visit, and he wondered what had made him change his mind. Nevertheless, it was a good idea.

"Very well, Barrow. Off you go." Carson turned on his heel and made his way into the house, the rest of the servants following.

Thomas and Jimmy walked over to the car together and Jimmy opened the door to enable them to retrieve the cases.

"So...what do you think of our visitor, then?" Asked Jimmy, eager to know what Thomas made of Harry.

Thomas looked up at the sky, thinking for a moment. Ignoring the unsettling feeling in his stomach when he though of the American, he lowered his eyes to Jimmy's. "Brash. Loud. Arrogant. Ridiculous. Did you see him flirting with Lady Rose?! What an awful man!"

Jimmy smiled at Thomas' reaction. It was exactly as he expected. "I knew you'd say that. There is one thing that surprised me about him, though," he said, thoughtfully, pulling out the biggest case.

"Oh? And what's that, then?" Thomas asked, grabbing the side of the case that Jimmy was about to drop on his foot.

Jimmy grinned mischievously. "As soon as he found out you were to be his valet, he couldn't keep his eyes off you!"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the introduction of Harry - I have some good Thomas/Harry scenes to write yet, will hopefully put a couple of chapters up at the weekend! Thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Another chapter so soon? Yes - I have been off work sick (but not ill enough to stop me from typing) so have had time to write more. Thank you for all your reviews so far! Honestly, they are really appreciated. I hope you are enjoying this new pairing. Well, I know they're not a pairing yet, but it's pretty blatant that they will be! ;)**

**Oh, and I _am _picturing a specific actor for Harry, but I won't name him as he's a Marmite kinda guy! And if you don't like him it might put you off the story!**

* * *

"_He couldn't keep his eyes off you!" _

Jimmy's words rang through Thomas' head, like a mantra that kept repeating itself over and over again. At the time Jimmy had said it, it had earned him a sharp clip round the head; Thomas had not believed it, thinking Jimmy was winding him up.

_But he did seem to change his mind about me being his valet, when he found out I wasn't Bates,_ Thomas thought as he ascended the stairs to Harry's room. The dressing gong had been rung, and he was making his way up to dress Harry for dinner.

_Not that I'm interested, of course,_ he followed his previous thought with. _He's a brash American; not really my type! Although...what exactly _is_ my type? A manipulating duke? A blind soldier? A straight footman?!_ Reflecting on his failed romances was depressing. He reached Harry's room and knocked on the door, feeling a tad down in the mouth.

"Come in!" Boomed Harry, as Thomas opened the door. "Oh, it's you...er..."

"Barrow, sir," Thomas helpfully interjected. "I've come to dress you for the evening." He stood still, waiting for the American to acknowledge this fact. Thomas knew from experience that it was best not to start tugging at a stranger's clothes without their prior consent.

"Barrow! Yes, of course!" Harry eyed Thomas carefully, as if sizing him up. "So was it you who unpacked my case and laid my clothes out for me?"

"Yes, sir. That is my duty as your valet," replied Thomas, worrying that Harry would somehow be annoyed at having his things touched. Someone not used to having a valet might be precious about their belongings.

"You English!" Harry laughed, displaying a perfect set of teeth. He walked over to the middle of the room and held his arms out. "Your strange customs astound me. But, as I'm here, I might as well give it a go!"

Thomas thought it strange that someone would consider being dressed by a valet _giving it a go_, but he obliged willingly. "Very well then sir."

Thomas bent down to untie Harry's shoelaces; something he had done many times for Lord Grantham without a second thought, but found odd to be doing today. Harry watched his actions curiously, and Thomas found himself blushing under the constant stare of his new master.

"Fascinating!" Harry exclaimed, as Thomas removed his shoes. Harry's heightened interest in Thomas' duties was starting to grate on him; had he never been dressed by a valet before? As if to read his mind, Harry responded.

"I'm sorry, Barrow. It's just – I've never been dressed before. It's a brand spanking new experience for me!" At the word _spanking_, he winked at Thomas, who looked at the floor, mortified. As much as he felt embarrassed at the choice of words from his master, his mind begun to conjure up illicit images of being strewn across Harry's lap...

"So, do you take my trousers off or do I?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Thomas was sure his face was on fire. _Is he flirting with me?_ "That's for you to do, sir. I just deal with shoes, ties, waistcoats and jackets." He was sure he registered a slight look of disappointment in Harry's face, but the American quickly smiled and started to remove his trousers.

Thomas turned away to protect Harry's modesty, gathering up the trousers needed for the evening and handing them to Harry, keeping his eyes to the wall.

Harry kept his gaze on Thomas whilst he pulled up his trousers and fastened them. "I'm decent!" He said, looking around for the next item. "Is it the shirt now?"

"Yes, sir, it is," said Thomas, picking up his crisp, white shirt. He tried not to watch as Harry removed the shirt he was wearing, revealing an extremely toned upper body and strong arms. Harry caught him sneaking a look and smiled to himself. Thomas handed Harry his shirt and he fastened it, waiting for Thomas to instruct him further.

"The tie, now, sir," said Thomas, picking up the tie he had selected and looping it over Harry's head. Undoubtedly one of the most intimate duties of a valet, Thomas began to work on fastening the tie, his face inches from Harry's. He tried to keep his focus on the task at hand, but found himself glancing up at Harry's face, taking in the American's features in all their glory.

Harry's skin was unbelievably smooth; his face looked as though it had never seen the sun, but Harry was not pale, no. His cheeks resonated a lovely golden-pinkish hue, and his chin was strong and square. His eyes were wide and the colour of the sky, framed with long dark eyelashes, _just like Her Ladyship's, _thought Thomas. His plump lips were rose-red, and Thomas had an almost uncontrollable urge to press his own on them, before coming to his senses.

_What are you thinking?! You don't even _like_ this man, let alone feel attracted to him! Did you learn _nothing_ from the Duke?_

Thomas blinked the thoughts away, but couldn't ignore the warm feeling spreading through his groin. Harry smiled at him, almost too knowingly, and Thomas stepped away from his master, the tie deftly fastened in place. Grabbing the waistcoat, he gestured for Harry to hold his arms out, and slid it onto him, fastening the buttons on the front quickly; not wanting to spend too long in such close proximity to those lips again.

Harry, sensing Thomas' discomfort, tried to start a conversation to ease the tension in the air. "So...what do you guys do for fun around here? Are there any boating lakes, or racing tracks, or nightclubs?"

Thomas looked at Harry incredulously. "I don't think I'm the right person to ask about leisurely pursuits, sir. I only get one day off a month, and I usually spend that catching up on all the things I haven't had time to do during the month. Lady Rose might be a better companion for that sort of thing."

"Lady Rose? Is that the kid? The one with the curly blonde hair?" Asked Harry, holding his arms out for Thomas to put on his jacket.

Thomas found it amusing that the lady who Harry appeared to fawn over on meeting was being referred to as 'the kid'.

"Yes, sir. She is a proper nightclub regular, or so Lady Edith would have the family believe." The conversation allowed Thomas to relax as he put on Harry's jacket and fastened it. "Not that Yorkshire is the place for nightclubs. You'd need to go to London for that sort of thing."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Hmm. She's a bit young for me. Normally I prefer them old enough to wipe their own nose!"

Thomas did not have a response to this, other than to dust down Harry's jacket as he looked at himself in the mirror. Looking at Harry's reflection, he could see that Harry wasn't looking at himself; he was looking at Thomas, as the two of them stood there, side-by-side.

"And what about you, Barrow? Do you have a lady in your life? One of the maids, perhaps?" Harry inquired, studying Thomas' face to gauge his reaction to this question.

Thomas tried to hide his shock at the thought of having a relationship with a woman, let alone a maid. "No, sir, I don't. Haven't met the right person yet." _And probably never will in this job, _he thought.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Thomas' careful use of the word 'person', and not 'woman'. "Me neither, Barrow. But there's hope for us yet, I'm sure. Am I ready?"

Thomas stepped back and viewed Harry, standing there dressed for dinner. "You're ready. I trust you know how to find the drawing room?"

"Yes, thank you Barrow," said Harry, smiling at Thomas. "Oh, and Barrow?" He said as Thomas headed to the door.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm glad I decided to use your services as a valet. It has been very informative, thank you."

Thomas left the room, a little confused by Harry's final statement. _How exactly had it been 'informative'?_ Either way, he was glad to be out of the room. Harry's presence was intoxicating, and although he didn't much like the American when he arrived, there was something about him that he was inexplicably drawn to.

* * *

Carson had told Thomas he wasn't needed at dinner, which he welcomed with relief. It gave him a couple of hours away from Harry, to gather his thoughts, and most importantly, smoke – something he always did to help him think. Tonight, however, nothing in his thoughts made any sense.

_How can a man I don't even LIKE __make me feel so, I don't know, flustered? Thomas Barrow does not DO flustered. Not any more. Not since Jimmy. And DEFINITELY not by a ridiculously over-the-top American. What was he playing at, making suggestive remarks, and dare I say it, flirting, with me? Or are all American men like that? Maybe it's just his way of being friendly. Or is he trying to catch me out?_

Thomas felt a slight panic rising in his chest.

_Maybe Her Ladyship told him about me, and they're plotting to get rid of me! Maybe they've realised they don't need an under-butler, and this is all part of a plan to darken my name again! It wouldn't be too difficult, would it?_

_I've got to be careful, keep my distance. Ignore his flirtatious comments and piercing stares. That shouldn't be too difficult for a professional like me. _

Feeling a bit better, Thomas threw down his cigarette and stamped on it with vigour.

_But...why does he have to be so damn attractive?_

Thomas groaned, closing his eyes. How was he going to manage a whole month of valeting Harry Levinson?

* * *

In the dining room, dinner was in full swing. Jimmy, as first footman, was taking round the fish; Alfred following with the sauce, something he clearly resented. Harry was talking animatedly about his latest yacht race, which he had won, of course; Rose was hanging off his every word, her tinkling laugh irritating Mary immensely.

"And then, at the last moment, I sped past him in his teeny tiny boat, and beat the lot of them by a hundred yards at least!" Harry punched the air triumphantly, much to the Dowager Countess' disgust. She had thought that no-one would be as brash as Martha Levinson; clearly, for the first time she could remember in a long while, she was wrong.

"Oh, well done Uncle Harry!" Exclaimed Rose, clapping like an intoxicated seal. Jimmy stifled a grin at the charade in front of him as he bent down to serve Rose the fish. If anyone knew what artificial flirting looked like, it was Jimmy. He had managed to fool Ivy, and even Thomas – although he hadn't meant to, in that instance. There was no way on Earth that Harry Levinson was interested in Lady Rose in the slightest. Alfred and he exited the room, making their way down to the kitchen to collect the next course. Robert took advantage of their absence to talk to Harry.

"So, Harry – how are you getting on with Barrow as your valet? I hope he is up to standard!" Robert asked politely, wondering how Harry received having someone to dress him.

"Yes, he most definitely is, Robert!" Said Harry, taking a swig of his wine. "He certainly knows his stuff!"

"Well, one would hope so. He did act as my valet for several months whilst my man was...away..." Robert didn't want to announce that his valet had been imprisoned for murder, wrongly or not.

"I feel flattered that you should entrust him to me, in that case! He's very good at his job!" Said Harry.

Robert scratched his chin. "Yes, he is indeed good at his job. Although...it always did feel a little odd to be dressed by...oh, I don't know what the correct term is these days..." He lowered his voice. "...someone who bats for the other team, to put it in cricket terms!"

"Oh!" Responded Harry, setting down his glass. "I see!"

Robert surveyed Harry apologetically. "Sorry, Harry – it's not going to be a problem, is it? Barrow's preferences? If you like, I can offer you one of our footmen to be your valet. It makes no difference to me!"

"Not at all, Robert! I don't think it should be a problem, although I am a little startled, of course. Are you sure? About Barrow, I mean?" Harry wondered how Robert had come by this information. He couldn't imagine Thomas blurting it out in front of his employers.

"Well, I suppose we've always known, really. Sometimes you just get that gut feeling about a man."

"Ah, so you don't know it for sure? It's just a _feeling?_" Harry was surprised that Robert appeared to make a habit of guessing his servants' sexual preferences.

"Well...yes and no. We always had an idea, but last year...we had a bit of an incident...let's just say our thoughts were confirmed for us. But Barrow was a good footman, and is an excellent under-butler. Who are we to refuse him a job on the basis of something he cannot choose?" Robert said in hushed tones. Although several of the family members knew about the incident, he didn't want to refresh the episode in their minds. His mother didn't know, of course.

"Robert, I think that's very tolerant of you. Such acceptance is admirable for someone in your position. Don't worry about Barrow attending to me – I AM an American, after all. I've seen a lot of things that would make your hair curl!" Harry smiled, patting Robert on the back to show how much he respected his host.

Robert returned the smile awkwardly, glancing at the spot on his shoulder where Harry was clapping his hand. Harry, seeing Robert's obvious discomfort at the contact, continued hastily.

"And after all, if Barrow is of that _persuasion_, it leaves more of the gorgeous ladies for us hot-blooded men, doesn't it?" He laughed, earning him a look of disdain from his brother-in-law.

_So, I was right about Barrow after all, _Harry thought triumphantly. _I knew it! _

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one will be up within the next couple of days! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Next chapter is here, folks! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for all the favourites, follows and reviews :) **

**For the people guessing at Jon Hamm for the actor - it's not him, but I approve of your thinking it is! He's quite easy on the eye and could probably pull off my Harry! (Ok that was not supposed to sound as rude as it did!)**

**I'll let you read the chapter now! ;)**

* * *

Thomas stood outside in the backyard, fidgeting nervously. It was early; the sun was barely rising on the horizon, but Thomas was having trouble sleeping, so he'd decided to get up and have a cigarette or two. He'd prefer something stronger – some whisky, perhaps. Anything to dull his senses to the prospect of having to dress Harry Levinson when he awoke.

He'd dreamt about Harry in the night – a blurring image of shapes and colours, but Harry was definitely present – surrounded by young girls all bearing a striking resemblance to Rose. Although the girls were concentrating on him, Harry was ignoring them all, and staring straight at Thomas. He made to walk towards Thomas, but suddenly the young girls all transformed into clones of Jimmy, and Harry was trying to get past them but he couldn't break through the group...

Thomas shook the picture from his head, feeling annoyed with himself for revisiting the dream.

"Penny for your thoughts."

O'Brien had snuck into the backyard, and was lighting up her first cigarette of the day before being summoned to take breakfast up to Lady Grantham.

"They're worth a damn sight more than that."

Thomas' reply was curt, but not as harsh as O'Brien had come to expect from her former friend.

"I daresay they are – thinking about a certain American visitor, are we?" O'Brien prompted, curiously.

"What's it to you?" Thomas asked, turning his head to look at her, and squinted at the brightness of her hair. _I'm surprised I didn't see her coming._

"Only...I noticed he seems quite taken with you. I heard him say to Her Ladyship that he's enjoying the experience of having a valet. And he's not exactly uneasy on the eyes." O'Brien blew out a puff of smoke, looking Thomas directly in the eye.

Thomas scoffed. "Of course he is. Just like Jimmy was. I'll not fall for that again, Miss O'Brien. You must think I was born yesterday!"

"I mean it, Thomas. I know you have no reason to trust me after what happened with Jimmy, but this time – I really do think that he likes you. All that flirting with the ladies stuff is nonsense!" She said, rolling her eyes.

"You're only saying that because he's not taken a fancy to your – well, I want to call it a hairstyle, but I'm not really sure what it is!" Thomas quipped.

O'Brien winced at the harsh criticism. "Look, Thomas. I know we haven't really got on these past couple of years, and I know that we are both to blame for some of the things we have done. But I know things are hard for you, being the way you are, and I just wanted to offer a little friendly advice."

Thomas shook his head, still incredulous. "Seriously? After all that you put me through? You think I'm gonna take friendly advice from you? Is it cos of what I told Mr Bates about the soap?"

"No! It's nothing to do with that, although I hate to think of that man having a hold over me." O'Brien shuddered.

Thomas looked at her, trying to work out what her motives could be. "Don't worry. He doesn't know the whole story; he doesn't know anything really. I didn't tell him any more than what he said to you."

O'Brien almost looked relieved; but her facial expression gave nothing away. "Well, anyway. If you don't want my advice – don't take it. I'm only trying to help."

"Well don't. I don't need your help, and I don't need your friendship! You almost ruined me – I can never trust you again! I wish you'd just stay out of my life!" Thomas almost shouted, feelings of bitterness overwhelming him.

O'Brien threw her cigarette to the ground, defeated. She knew it was no use – Thomas was never going to forgive her. She turned on her heel, and said without looking back: "Be careful what you wish for, Thomas."

Thomas clenched his fists in frustration. O'Brien had deliberately caused him so much pain over the past two years. She had fooled him about Jimmy; she was not going to fool him again. He had almost lost his job, lost his life, lost his freedom. He couldn't take that risk again, not for Harry. Not for anyone.

* * *

The sound of the bell ringing awoke Thomas from his daydream. His heart started pounding as he turned his head to see who was ringing, and his insides tightened when he saw that the bell was being rung from Harry's room. He paused for a moment, thinking that maybe he could get away with sending Alfred, or even Jimmy, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"Come along, Mr Barrow! Don't keep our guest waiting!" Boomed Mr Carson, eyeing Thomas with a look of disdain.

Thomas slowly rose to his feet, his head lowered. He couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather not go at this moment in time. He traipsed up the stairs to the mens quarters, muttering to himself as he went.

"Don't let yourself think those thoughts! You hate him! He's ridiculous!" _He's not Jimmy,_ he added in thought.

Reaching the room, he knocked reluctantly on the door.

"Come in!" The voice was loud and cheerful, and Thomas pushed the door slowly. Harry was standing in the middle of the room, in his undergarments. _He couldn't look more ready to be dressed if he tried,_ thought Thomas.

"Ah! Barrow! Come to put my clothes on for me again, have you? Good man!"

Harry was grinning like a loon; Thomas kept his head slightly bowed and kept silent. He didn't trust himself to say anything at all; not knowing whether he would make an overly scathing remark or an overly complimentary one.

Thomas handed Harry his shirt, and jumped visibly when his fingers brushed against Harry's own hand, sending an electric current through his hand and up his arm to his chest. Harry looked at him and smiled, but Thomas looked mortified. _Don't react, don't let him think you're attracted to him, whatever you do._

Much to Thomas' dismay, he knew that Harry could read him like a book - the blushed complexion, the shaky hands, the lack of eye-contact. _He'd be a fool to think otherwise, _thought Thomas. _I was always such a good actor, except when it came to matters of the heart. It always lets me down._

Thomas turned to retrieve Harry's trousers from where they lay on the chair, and felt a strong hand grope his backside. _What the...?_

Thomas didn't move straight away. He let the hand caress him gently, and a bolt of lightning shot through his groin, his trousers tightening with alarming speed. _It's a trick! He's trying to catch me out!_

He spun around, accusingly. Harry stood there, his hand still outstretched, but a slightly more sincere smile on his face.

"You have such a lovely ass...I hoped you wouldn't mind me touching it...?" Harry said, almost apologetically. He glanced down at Thomas' bulge, and his suspicions were confirmed.

Thomas saw Harry's eyes wander south, and covered himself with the trousers he was holding. "Yes I do mind! Sir!" He added. "Don't touch me again!"

Harry looked confused. "But I thought...I thought you were..."

"You thought wrong! I'm nothing of the sort! Now, if you're quite finished, I've got work to do!" Thomas rushed out of the room, his face flaming red. He shut the door, and pressed his forehead to the wall to cool it. His thoughts all muddled; his feelings fighting a war with each other.

_I'm attracted to Harry Levinson. My life is over._

* * *

"Are you all right, Thomas? You were awfully quiet today." Jimmy had come to see him in his room; something that Thomas had been cautious about at first, considering what had happened between them, but had welcomed when he could see that Jimmy was no longer awkward around him. They usually played cards, or read the papers, but today Thomas was just sitting on his bed, deep in thought.

"Just had a lot on my mind, is all," gave Thomas as a way of reply. He didn't think Jimmy would be a sympathetic ear to his tale of receiving unwanted sexual advances, given their history.

But Jimmy persisted. "Please tell me! You've been so down in the mouth – I'm worried about you. I might be able to help?"

Thomas' heart went out to the blond footman. He knew he wouldn't get rid of him until he told him something. It was one of the things that had made him fall in love with Jimmy in the first place; his ability to listen, and not judge. Well, not judge _most_ things, anyway.

"It's...a long story...you wouldn't understand..." Thomas closed his eyes, worried that if he told Jimmy, it would scare him away. He valued their friendship far too much to go through that again.

"Is it about Mr Levinson? Has something happened between him and you?" Jimmy tried to hide his discomfort at talking about such an unorthodox relationship, but Thomas could sense it.

"Sort of...I didn't think you'd want to hear about it, of all people!"

Jimmy paused before he spoke. "Look, Thomas. I know it's a bit strange to talk about this with me, but we're friends now, and friends want each other to be happy, don't they? I'd like to think you'd listen to me, if I had a problem to talk about."

"That's very kind of you, Jimmy." Thomas opened his eyes, but kept his gaze to the floor. "Mr Levinson...he...well, he..." he looked up at Jimmy, who motioned for him to carry on. "...he kind of, touched...my...well, me. He touched me."

"Crikey!" Said Jimmy, in surprise. "And what did you do?"

"Nothing! Well, not exactly. I gave him what for and ran off. I'm sure you can imagine the scene!" Thomas said, quietly.

Jimmy thought back to that night in his room, and cringed inwardly. "Yes, I can imagine. Well, what are you going to do now? Are you going to report him to Lord G? You should, if he's crossing the line. I would!"

"Yes, I know _you_ would. You'd be on the phone to the police in five minutes flat!" Thomas regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He knew Jimmy was sorry about that; he had apologised enough times. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's all right. I know why you said it. I just meant, you should tell someone if it's making you uncomfortable. You shouldn't have to put up with him if he's going to be a nuisance." Jimmy looked earnestly at his friend.

Thomas took a deep breath. _Dare he...?_

"But that's just it," Thomas said quietly. "I'm not so sure if he _is_ being a nuisance..."

Jimmy took a few seconds to process Thomas' words. "What do you mean?" He said slowly.

"I mean...maybe I _wanted_ him to touch me." Thomas couldn't believe he was having this conversation with anyone, let alone Jimmy. He half expected the footman to run kicking and screaming from his room immediately. It was a comfort when Jimmy remained in his chair.

"Do you..._like_...him?" Jimmy got straight to the point.

Thomas knew there was no going back now. "I think I do. Yes."

"Wow." Jimmy's response was short, as he leant back in his chair. "You know he likes you too, right? I mean, come on, it's so obvious."

"Is it? What about all that flirting with Rose? Winking at the maids? All those comments about fast yachts and fast women?" Thomas looked at Jimmy, desperate for him to contradict his statements.

Jimmy scoffed. "Flirting with Rose? Please! I've seen better flirting between Moseley and O'Brien. He pretends to be interested, but coming from a man who knows how to 'pretend flirt' – take it from me. He's not interested in her. I'm pretty sure he likes you."

"That's what O'Brien said."

"O'Brien said that?! No wonder you don't sound so sure! She's hardly cupid in disguise. But I agree with her, for once. I think you're onto something, there." Jimmy raised a smile; determined to support his friend, no matter how bizarre his interests.

"But what if it's a trick? To catch me out? I don't want to go through that again, I won't!" Thomas still felt the pain from the memory.

"I don't think it's a trick – after all, he touched you, didn't he? He's got just as much to lose as you have, if not more. Talk to him, at least. Find out what he wants."

"I think he's made it pretty obvious what he wants!" Said Thomas, raising a half smile. "And I bet he knows what he's doing with it, too."

Jimmy coughed, his cheeks flushing. Thomas noticed his discomfort and cursed himself for his courseness.

"Sorry, Jimmy, I forgot myself. You didn't need to hear about my sordid thoughts."

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind. But you never know, maybe he's looking for love this time."

"Love?! And what would a young whipper-snapper like you know about love?" Thomas laughed, feeling a little better now that he had talked about his predicament.

_Is he ready to hear this? _Thought Jimmy, studying Thomas' face. _He looks a lot happier than five minutes ago, and if he's being honest with me about Mr Levinson, maybe I should be honest with him, too._

"Actually, Thomas, there is something I've been meaning to tell you, but I haven't been able to find the words until now. But you've just told me your secret, and now I have to tell you mine. I just hope you still want to be friends afterwards..."

* * *

**A/N: What does Jimmy have to confess to Thomas? Stay tuned to find out! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Next chapter here for you! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the reviews :)**

* * *

Thomas sat with baited breath, waiting for Jimmy to tell him his secret. His heart thumped loudly. _Is Jimmy about to declare his feelings for me? _He almost didn't want to hear what the footman had to say – it could throw everything he had believed since that fateful night into disarray.

Jimmy looked down at his hands, and started to pick at his fingernails. He didn't quite know how to start.

"Jimmy?" Thomas prompted, his patience running short.

"Uh. Ok. Did you never wonder where I went on my half day? Where I went on my days off?" Jimmy thought he'd start by finding out what Thomas might already know.

Thomas looked confused at the question. "Well, you never said. You've only ever mentioned you spent the time alone, going for a walk. I never questioned it really; I like spending time with my own thoughts too. When you have the sort of thoughts I do, you need to get away from it all sometimes."

Jimmy thought as much. "Well, sometimes I _do_ go for a walk on my own. But mostly...I go to see someone." He paused.

"Someone? As in...a woman?" _Or a man, _a part ofThomas hoped silently.

"Yes. A woman."

_Damn. _"So. You have a girl? And you kept it a secret all this time? Why, Jimmy? Wouldn't it have been easier to just come out with it when you got here?" Thomas closed his eyes and sat back. "It could have saved me from making a fool of meself."

"It's not what you think. When I say, a woman – I should really say, a _lady._" Jimmy looked at Thomas' face, waiting for him to register his meaning.

Thomas opened his eyes, confused. "Yeah, a woman, lady, girl. I know what my preferences are, Jimmy, but I think I know what someone of the opposite gender looks like."

"No. I mean...she's a real _lady._" Jimmy kept his gaze on Thomas, and knew his words were finally sinking in when Thomas gaped at him, eyes wide.

"You mean...a _lady_...as in, Lady Anstruther?!"

Jimmy looked horrified. "God, no! She must have been at least sixty! But her daughter, Emma...or should I say, Lady Emma..."

"Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. No wonder you kept it quiet! You've done a Branson on us! What is it with these ladies going for male servants?" _Although to be fair, it might have something to do with the fact that all the male gentry seem to be chasing after me, _he thought, thinking of the Duke, Harry, and countless other Lords and Dukes who had taken advantage of his extra services of a valet.

"I know what it sounds like. But I couldn't exactly tell everyone when I got here, could I? I didn't know anyone, and I really wanted the job, with Lady A going to France an' all. Emma stayed here in Yorkshire, with her Aunt's family. They live over at Leicester House in Ripon. She couldn't tell anyone why she didn't want to go to France. They think there's something queer about her, as she's not found herself a rich man to marry. But it's because she's in love with me, and I with her." Jimmy was trying not to tear up; the situation was almost impossible to handle but he felt a little relieved to have told someone at last.

Thomas was torn between being annoyed at Jimmy's deceit, and pleased that Jimmy had trusted him to share his secret. "You should have told me, Jimmy. Lord knows you know my secrets; and it could have saved a lot of problems. Why didn't you just slip it into conversation that you had a girl?"

"I don't know. I wish I had. I could've just said it was a maid or summit. Would've got Ivy off my back, at least. I just worried that everyone would start digging about and find out the truth. I knew how much everyone here resented Mr Branson for doing the same thing, so I didn't think it would bode well with Mr Carson if he found out."

"Well, you could've told me, at least. I wouldn't have said anything. Instead you just let me believe I had a chance," said Thomas, a little bitterly.

"I'm sorry about that, you must know that by now. But O'Brien told me to stay close to you, to get on in the job. I hoped that if I could get a promotion to valet within a year or two, I would be higher ranking and earning more money, which might make it easier to be with Emma. I know now that even if I was a butler, it would still be too big a gap. But I won't give her up, I won't. I love her. And I know she loves me." Jimmy couldn't stop the tears flowing now.

Thomas felt a pang of sympathy for the footman. He knew exactly what a forbidden romance felt like, and it was a lot to deal with for a man as young as Jimmy.

"Have you ever thought about running off and getting married? Starting again? I know I have. But it's easier for you, surely. If Branson and Lady Sybil could do it..." Thomas was surprised to hear himself almost encouraging Jimmy to elope with his girl. _What is the matter with me?_

"Of course. We talk about it every time we see each other. But Lady Sybil was different – she had trained as a nurse, whereas Emma has never worked. I could get a job somewhere else, but I'm only trained as a footman so I'd be basically doing the same as I do here. And I'd still only see her once or twice a month. She's had to keep me a secret from her whole family. It's not been easy."

"No, I'll bet it hasn't. What do you plan to do? Keep it a secret forever? One day you'll have to make a decision, Jimmy. You can't live like this for the rest of your lives."

"Why not? You have to keep your love life a secret – why should it be any different to me?" Jimmy asked adamantly.

"I don't have a choice, Jimmy. I _have _to keep my affairs a secret – I could get arrested. You wouldn't; frowned upon, shunned by her family, possibly. But you aren't technically doing anything illegal. I'd give anything to be in your position, as difficult as it is. You don't know how lucky you are!" Thomas had started to lose his patience. As much as he wanted to be sympathetic, it was difficult when he compared it to his own problems. It didn't help much that if Jimmy had been honest, it could have saved so much heartache and aggravation on his own part.

Jimmy stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "I knew you wouldn't understand. I shouldn't have told you." He walked towards the door, feeling miserable.

"Don't go, Jimmy, I'm sorry..." But it was too late. Jimmy slammed the door with force, sending a rattle through the walls. Thomas winced at the sound. _Well, that went well,_ he thought.

Thomas was annoyed that he'd lost his patience. Jimmy had been kind enough to sit and listen to _his _problems with Harry, even though he's physically recoiled at the thought of two men.

_The least I could've done was listen to him. But h__e kept that quiet didn't he? I never would have had him down as a lady's fancy man, although he's certainly got the charm for it. She's a lucky lady. I hope she knows it, too. _

Thomas sighed heavily. The revelation that Jimmy was in love with a woman affected his feelings somewhat, but it hurt _less _than he expected. It had finally confirmed for him that Jimmy was _never _going to be his. He stretched his arms up and rested his heads behind his head, gazing absently at the door that Jimmy had so quickly departed through.

_Maybe I'll be able to move on now. Now I know that Jimmy will never be interested. I knew that, of course. But I suppose a small part of me always hoped; a piece of me would have always waited for Jimmy to declare his love for me. Even though my head knew it would never happen. So what do I do now? Do I spend the rest of my life pining for someone who I know I'll never have? Or do I let myself be free to love another? Well, maybe not love. But a bit of fun wouldn't go amiss..._

And with that thought, he knew exactly what he had to do next.

* * *

Reaching the door of his destination, Thomas paused before knocking. _What was he going to say, exactly? _He wished he'd thought about it for a bit longer. He knew what he _wanted _to say; what he _wanted _to do. _But sometimes that doesn't help in the slightest._

"Come in!" Came the voice behind the door.

Thomas entered, his eyes searching for the occupant.

"Ah, Barrow. You're early. I wasn't planning on going down to dinner just yet." Harry looked surprised to see Thomas at this time of the day. He was sitting on his bed, reading, much to Thomas' surprise. He hadn't had him pegged as a book-lover.

"I know. I haven't come here to dress you. Well, I'm not quite sure why I've come here actually." Thomas looked a little sheepish, something he definitely was not used to.

"I'm glad you did." Harry gazed up at Thomas from where he was sitting. He gestured for Thomas to sit down on one of the chairs. "I feel I need to apologise – for what happened this morning. It was wrong and you shouldn't have had to put up with my behaviour. Please forgive me, if you think you can."

Thomas was a little taken aback at the apology, especially as he could see the sincerity in Harry's face. "Oh! That's quite all right, sir." He smiled his professional, under-butler smile and sat down on the offered seat.

"No, it's not. I should not have made you feel uncomfortable like I did. I guess, in my defence, it's so different here than it is in America. Everyone is much more guarded in England – it's taking me a while to get used to it. Back home – we just get on with things. Of course, there are certain – _activities – _that are frowned upon. Illegal, even. But once we meet someone we like, we don't hang back. I guess I should have realised it's not quite the same over here." Harry looked embarrassed for the first time since Thomas had met him.

"But how did you know that I was..." Thomas asked, even though he knew it had been obvious from the moment he had dressed him the first time.

"I didn't, at first. I had a feeling, of course. You must know how it is?" Thomas nodded in agreement. "But then, Robert – Lord Grantham – kinda confirmed it."

"You mean, you asked him?! What the -" Thomas' eyes flashed at the boldness of the man in front of him.

"No! What do you take me for, Barrow?!" Laughed Harry, shaking his head at the thought. "_He _was the one who mentioned it – he thought I might find it being strange, being, _how did he describe it? _Being dressed by someone who 'bats for the other team'."

Thomas sighed in relief. "Trust Lord G to put it into cricket terms," he laughed nervously. "And what did you say?"

"Oh, I made some quip about leaving more lovely ladies for the rest of us, you know how it is."

Thomas didn't know. He'd never been able to convince anyone he was anything other than he was, except maybe Daisy. And, as fond as he was of the kitchen assistant, she wasn't the brightest button in the sewing box.

"Well, he's right. You were right. Everyone here knows it. I nearly lost my job over it a couple of years ago." Harry looked at him, concerned. "It's a long story," Thomas finished, not wanting to go into detail.

"Well, will you tell me someday? Not today, but maybe if we get to know each other a little better. If you want to, that is?" Harry looked at him hopefully. Thomas couldn't believe how different this man was to the brash American he had first met. This man was every bit as good-looking as the Harry he had been tending to, but his demeanour was softer, kinder, almost vulnerable – which of course made him more attractive.

"Maybe. I don't know. I've had lots of bad experiences in the past. How do I know I can trust you? You're Lady G's sister, for a start!" Thomas suddenly felt that panic he had felt about it being a trick rise up in him again.

"And she doesn't know a thing about me. Not really. Do you think she'd let me come here and stay if she knew?" Harry moved to the edge of the bed, closer to Thomas, their eyes meeting in an urgent gaze, their hands almost touching.

"I suppose not." Thomas didn't move – he didn't trust himself to get any closer to Harry without pressing his lips to Harry's own; without his fingers raking through Harry's dark hair; without his hands fumbling to unbutton Harry's trousers. He had a million questions racing around his head, none of them making sense. He knew he was attracted to Harry, that much was clear. But he was scared. "But why me? What would you want with a _lowly under_-_butler_?"

"Are you serious?! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? I know it's very _un-English_ to say this, but I'm not English so I _think _I can get away with it - you're extremely handsome, you know?"

Thomas blushed vividly. Even the Duke had never been so free with his compliments. Memories of the Duke sent an icy grip around his heart. "But...I've been burnt. Badly. I don't know if I can let myself get carried away. I told myself I would never be weak again."

"Well, let me be weak for both of us."

Harry moved his hand to Thomas' own and wrapped his fingers around it. The heat emanating from the touch was intense, and it almost made Thomas retract his hand for fear that it was on fire. When he was convinced it wasn't aflame, he closed his eyes, and leaned forward an inch. All of a sudden his lips were no longer his own; Harry had claimed them. Their faces pressed together in a warm haze, and Thomas felt his mouth being gently prised open with Harry's tongue, but carefully – Harry was a much softer kisser than Thomas expected.

Thomas felt a hand slide round his face, to the back of his neck, massaging gently. He shivered at the touch – it had been too long. Thomas noted that Harry tasted of peppermint and cigars, and he smelled of an rich cologne; almost as if he had been expecting to be kissed, thought Thomas, wryly.

As if he knew what Thomas had been thinking, Harry pulled away, but kept close to Thomas' face. Smiling at the under-butler, he cocked his head to the side and took hold of Thomas' other hand.

"So, Barrow – do you have a first name?"

* * *

**A/N: I hope Jimmy's confession isn't too disappointing for you - this isn't going to be a Thommy fic, I'm afraid. There will be some slash in the next chapter, I promise!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A midweek update with a teensy weensy bit of slash for you (rating has been changed). I hope you enjoy it! :)**

* * *

"It's Thomas, sir."

"Thomas, how wonderful. And whatever you do, don't call me sir. If anything, I should be calling _you _sir!" said Harry quietly, still holding onto Thomas' hands as he sat facing him on the bed.

Thomas looked confused. "What? Why?"

Harry thought for a moment. "It doesn't matter. Not right now, anyway."

Realising that Harry wasn't going to explain further, Thomas changed the subject.

"So, how long have you been...like this? Have you always known? Or are you just bored of women, and thought you'd start making your way through the men of the world?" Thomas sincerely hoped this last statement wasn't the case.

Harry smiled. "Oh, I'm bored of women all right. But the truth is, I always have been. I _want_ to like women, of course – don't we all? It would make my life a damn sight easier. But I expect you don't need me to tell you that." Thomas raised his eyebrows in semi-agreement. Truth be told; although Thomas hated having to keep his preferences a secret, he would much prefer that the world would accept him for who he was, rather than him being born any differently.

Harry continued. "But I've always preferred the square jaw, the muscular physique, the masculine roughness of a man, as opposed to the delicate, sweet, pretty figure of a lady. In the most respectful way, I find women are very weak and naïve – they always want to be seduced, and be treated like a delicate piece of china – but what is wrong with the man having a turn to be seduced every once in a while, huh?"

Harry looked at Thomas, who was giving him a look of bemusement. "Oh, sorry, you probably wonder what the Hell I'm talking about. I do wonder myself sometimes! But what it comes down to is, quite simply – women do not excite me. They don't thrill me the way that I've heard men talk about women are supposed to. Why do you think I like racing yachts?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders, completely baffled.

"I get a _thrill _from yachts – the bigger, the faster, the better! The way it feels to soar across the open water, the wind in your hair, the sun on your back! Of course, it's not the same as waking up in the arms of a young sailor –" Harry winked at Thomas "– but it's much better than waking up in the arms of a lady."

Thomas looked down at his lap. "I wouldn't know – I've never been with a woman."

"Well, let me tell you – you're not missing anything. It's like being with your sister!"

Thomas thought of Lady Grantham, and shuddered. As attractive as she was (she had similar features to Harry, after all), he couldn't bear the thought of getting into bed with a woman. "So, you have a few yachts then?" He said, trying to move away from a topic he found so unnatural.

"Yeah, I have a few! I collect them, and keep them docked up in New York. They're a way of keeping my mind of what I can't have – what I'm not allowed to have."

"But...have you actually _been_ with a man before?" Thomas did not like the idea of being an experiment – he had been someone's _dalliance_ before and he did not want to go through that again.

"Of course, Thomas! I may not be _allowed _to sleep with men – but I'm not strong enough to stop myself from indulging every now and again. I'd go mad otherwise!" Harry squeezed Thomas' thigh, sending a wave of pleasure up Thomas' leg and up through his groin. He looked up and saw Harry smiling at him, almost suggestively. Thomas blushed. He did have another question for Harry, however.

"There is one thing – how have you managed to keep it a secret for so long? From your sister, your mother? It can't be easy."

"It _is_ easy! Just surround yourself with beautiful women, and no-one will ever know. The yachts help – women are so attracted to money and luxury – that I'm literally _fighting _them off."

_It probably doesn't hurt that you're ridiculously attractive too, _thought Thomas, as Harry continued.

"They don't know that it's no use, and I don't tell them. Of course, a man has to learn to flirt with the women too – if I ignored them, it would look strange."

"Hence the flirting with Lady Rose," said Thomas, quietly almost to himself. "Just like Jimmy said..."

"Jimmy, who's Jimmy? Is he your boyfriend?" Asked Harry, looking a little disappointed.

Thomas almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, even though it was one he had thought about almost every day for the past two years.

"God, no! He's...just a friend," said Thomas, eager to change the subject. "So you say no-one knows? You don't know how lucky you are!"

"I know Robert knows about you, but surely not the whole household?" Harry looked disbelieving.

"Most of them, yes. You see, you can't just surround yourself with beautiful women when you are a servant. I mean, have you _seen _your sister's maid, O'Brien? I couldn't flirt with her even if I liked women!" Thomas felt a little mean, being so harsh about his former friend, but it's not like she'd done him any favours recently.

Harry laughed. "I see what you mean! What exactly is up with her hair? Does she always look like that?!"

Now it was Thomas' turn to chuckle. "You'll never believe it when I tell you. Apparently she did it to impress _you_! She'd heard you were coming and wanted to look stylish. I'm not sure exactly why she thought you'd be impressed. To be fair, I've always thought she was in love with your sister, she's a queer one and no mistake."

"I just love the way you talk over here! _A queer one and no mistake_," copied Harry. Thomas blushed vividly; it was strange the way Harry managed to capture his accent so uncannily.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed – I think it's kinda adorable."

If Harry thought that by complimenting Thomas it would relax him, he thought wrong. Thomas felt his cheeks burning, and he pulled his hands away to cover his face. He'd never been spoken to so forwardly as this before. It was a strange mixture of wonderful and uncomfortable at the same time.

"Sorry – I didn't realise that by saying something nice, I would make you feel awkward. I'll keep my compliments to a minimum for the time being, shall I?" Harry smiled, although his voice was sincere.

Thomas nodded. It would take him some time to get used to this.

"So - " said Harry, moving the conversation on a little. " - how comes everyone knows about you then? Robert said that there was an _incident_ last year..."

Thomas closed his eyes. _Did he want to tell this story, to someone he barely knew? Well, he's bound to hear it from someone else whilst he's here – I might as well tell him my version first._ He opened his eyes, and saw Harry looking at him intently. The kindness in the other man's eyes was enough to convince him to open up.

"I mentioned Jimmy before..."

"Jimmy? Your friend? Does he work here?" Harry asked, taking Thomas' hands again.

"Yes, he's first footman. The household call him James, upon Carson, the butler's, insistence. But I've always called him Jimmy. He prefers it."

"Ah yes, I know the one. Young, blond, extremely handsome?" Harry smiled.

Thomas nodded. "That's the one. Well, he started here about two years ago, and for some reason I thought he was...like us..."

"But I'm guessing he's not, and you made a fool of yourself finding out? Well, you wouldn't be the first man to get it wrong. I know I have a few times myself! So what did he do, sock you in the nose when you told him you fancied him?" Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Not exactly." said Thomas, sighing. "It sounds _ridiculous _to say it out loud, but I went to his room in the night, and, well, I kissed him whilst he was asleep." Harry widened his eyes. "Needless to say, he woke up and wasn't too happy about it. And to make matters worse...Alfred, the second footman..."

"The tall ginger one?" Asked Harry, screwing up his face.

"...the tall ginger one..." confirmed Thomas, sharing Harry's obvious distaste, "...he walked in and saw me do it. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I nearly lost my job, nearly got arrested, but somehow Lord G took pity on me and I ended up as under-butler. To be quite honest, I'm not sure how I managed to get away with it. From what I gather, I've got my cricket skills to thank for that."

"Oh really? And do you have any other skills that I need to know about?" Teased Harry suggestively.

"Possibly," Thomas teased back. "But it's been a long time since I've...had the opportunity to practise...not cricket of course, but, other things..."

Harry cupped Thomas' face with his hand, and stroked his cheek. "Thomas Barrow, you fascinate me. We have exactly half an hour before you are supposed to dress me for dinner. Do you have any idea what we can do to pass the time?"

"I wouldn't like to assume, sir," said Thomas, looking up at Harry though his adorably long, dark eyelashes.

"What have I told you about calling me sir?" said Harry in mock-anger. He ran his fingers along Thomas' lips and allowed Thomas to nibble on them. Conscious of the time, Harry stood up and pulled Thomas vigorously from the chair he was sitting on so that he fell on top of Harry on his bed.

"Whoops! How careless of me!" Said Harry, as Thomas' body pressed down onto his own, their faces only an inch or so apart. Thomas looked down at Harry, marvelling at his handsome features – even though Harry was a good ten years older than him, he had such a youthful look about his face.

"Well, are you gonna kiss me or not?" Harry said, impatiently.

"Oh! Yes," replied Thomas, allowing his head to drop onto Harry's, their lips meeting in a soft but passionate embrace. Harry wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling him closer. The two men lay on the bed in a slow kiss, and Thomas could feel himself getting very hot. Realising he was still wearing his under-butler jacket, he pulled away from Harry who moaned inappreciatively.

Thomas started to undo his jacket, but Harry put out his hand to stop him. "No! Let me do that!"

Thomas was bemused. "Oh! Well, if you want to, that is." He stood up and held out his arms, waiting for Harry to continue what he started.

Harry smiled cheekily. He paused for a moment before standing up, then much to Thomas' confusion, Harry knelt on the floor in front of him. Thomas felt his knees buckle slightly; _well he doesn't hang about, does he? _He blushed, for what felt like the hundredth time today. Lowering his arms awkwardly, he wondered why Harry was looking at his feet so intently.

Harry looked up at Thomas, wide-eyed. "Do I take off your shoes first, sir?"

Thomas blinked, slowly.

_Sir?Why the...?_

Harry blinked back. His face was a picture of innocence, but there was a tiny glint in his eyes that suggested otherwise.

_Oh, like that, is it?! _

Catching on quickly, Thomas smiled wickedly, then straightened his face. "Yes. Start with the shoes first, please Mr Levinson. Come on, hurry up, we haven't got all day!"

"Sorry, sir. It's my first time as a valet – I'll need you to guide me to the right places..."

Thomas tutted loudly. _This is going to be fun, _he thought, although he kept a stern look on his face.

_I've always fancied myself as having a servant of me own._ He watched as Harry undid his shoelaces, and pulled off each shoe, leaving him in his socks.

Harry paused. Thomas glared and him. "Well, take my jacket off then, you incompetent fool!" He barked, enjoying his role as one of the gentry. Harry stood up, obediently. He undid Thomas' jacket, keeping his face close to Thomas' the whole time. It was as much as Thomas could muster not to lean forward and kiss his new valet; but he didn't want to come out of character just yet. Harry removed Thomas' jacket, and put it on the chair by the bed.

"Don't just leave it crumpled on the chair!" Snapped Thomas. "Hang it up, you bumbling buffoon!"

"Sorry, sir," mumbled Harry, picking up the jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair. "I'm trying my best."

"Well, it's not good enough! I've a good mind to punish you for your embarrassing display of valeting!" Thomas was surprised how easily he had managed to slip into the role of master to Harry's servant. _Must've been rich in a previous life, _he thought. _I knew it!_

Harry dropped to his knees again, prompting Thomas' trousers to stiffen. "Is it the trousers, now sir? Or is one not required to remove sir's trousers?"

"Of course you are required to remove my trousers! What kind of valet makes a man _take off his own trousers?_" Thomas suddenly realised why Harry had been so fascinated when he had come to dress him for the first time. _Had he been planning this all along...?_

"As you wish, sir." Harry reached up to Thomas' waistband, and began to undo the buttons.

"And why are you calling myself, _Lord Barrow_, 'sir'? How dare you speak so informally to me!"

"Sorry, m'lord. I won't do it again, m'lord."

_That's better. If I'm going to be the rich man, I might as well be a lord, as opposed to just a sir._ Thomas smirked at the role-play. Harry was on the last button, and as he undid it his hand grazed over Thomas' semi-erection, which Thomas was almost certain was deliberate.

"Mmmm..." mumbled Thomas, tipping his head back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Sorry, m'lord – what did you say?" Asked Harry.

Snapping back into character, Thomas quickly thought of a response. "Are you deaf, Mr Levinson? I said: 'mm...my trousers need taking off!' I'm not paying you to dally around all day!"

"As you wish, m'lord." Harry hooked his fingers around the waistband, and pulled the trousers down past Thomas' knees, until they dropped to the floor. He crouched down to lift up Thomas' feet, one at a time, to release them from the trousers, and as he did so he placed a soft kiss on each calf. Thomas shivered, and he forgot about his part in the role-play in an instant.

Harry trailed little kisses up the inside of Thomas' left leg, licking and sucking at the exposed flesh, until he reached Thomas' thigh. He looked upwards at Thomas to see if his new master would allow him to continue.

Thomas nodded; he could stand there being undressed all day, but they didn't have all day. Twenty minutes, at best.

Harry ran his tongue upwards, along Thomas' left thigh, towards his straining erection, still enclosed in his underpants, his hand massaging Thomas' other thigh to double the stimulation. Thomas groaned at the touch; it had been such a long time since he'd been shown this level of affection, and he knew it wouldn't take much for him to spill over.

Harry was clearly enjoying himself; he reached his hand around to squeeze Thomas' pert behind, whilst placing kisses on the large bulge in Thomas' pants, which was starting to dampen.

"Uh...you know that a valet is now required to remove his master's underpants?" Thomas panted, knowing he couldn't last much longer. He wanted to feel the inside of Harry's mouth around him before it was over all too quickly.

"Oh really?" Asked Harry, innocently. "They didn't teach me that in valet school."

Thomas stifled a laugh at Harry's quick response. _Valet school!_

Harry wasted no time in sliding his hands into Thomas' pants and pulling them down, allowing Thomas' erection to spring free. Harry eyed his prize greedily; and before he had time to lean forward, Thomas had pressed his hands onto the back of Harry's head, pulling Harry towards his throbbing hardness.

Harry opened his mouth and took Thomas into it as deeply as he could, allowing his tongue to circle freely, lapping up any juices that had already leaked. Thomas' breathing quickened as the blood rushed to his groin, his hips grinding slowly in time with the man sucking on his most sensitive part. Harry reached round to rub his fingers around Thomas' entrance, causing Thomas to gasp loudly.

"My God!" _Oh God, I'm nearly, uh..._

Harry knew exactly what he was doing as he pumped Thomas with his free hand whilst increasing the pressure on the tip with his mouth. He moved his lips up and down in time with his hand and pressed his thumb inside Thomas' entrance, which was tightening in anticipation.

"AAARGH!" Thomas arched his back, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, as he spilled into Harry's mouth, all over his tongue and down the back of Harry's throat. Harry sucked hungrily, making sure he emptied Thomas thoroughly.

Thomas stood in the middle of the room, spent. He looked down at Harry, who was eyeing him shyly. _Of all the things I thought might happen when I came here today – THAT was not one of them!_ He smiled softly at Harry, feeling a sudden rush of affection. _But I'm very glad that it did! _

"Mr Levinson!" Thomas scolded, getting back into character. "What are you waiting for? Dress me at once!"

* * *

**A/N: I don't know about anyone else but I reckon Thomas would get off on pretending to be the lord of the house! More role-playing shenanigans to come in the next few days! Thanks for reading! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! My own fault for trying to write too many stories at once. And having a job. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by the end of tomorrow, but I'm also writing a one-shot sequel to Three's A Crowd, so I can't make any promises! I hope you enjoy reading! :)**

* * *

After settling the ladies ready for their evening meal, Thomas retreated to the servants hall for a well-earned cigarette. He smiled warmly at Jimmy who was preparing to take up the first course with Alfred, but his friend made no eye-contact.

_Still mad at me then, _thought Thomas. _I'll speak to him later. _

Mrs Hughes bustled into the hall, a pained expression on her face. "Has anyone seen Miss O'Brien?"

Jimmy had already gone, but Thomas and Alfred shook their heads. "Sorry," said Thomas. "I've not seen her since this morning. Why, has something happened?"

Mrs Hughes remained tight lipped. "Never you mind. If you see her, send her to see me at once." She left the room, heading for Carson's office.

Normally, Thomas would have spent a bit of time pondering over the apparent disappearance of his enemy. Tonight, however, he found he couldn't care less. He was in an unusually good mood, following his afternoon of role-playing intimacy with Harry. A mood that didn't go unnoticed as he swept into the kitchen, almost sending Daisy flying.

"Oi! Watch where you're going, will yer!" Daisy shrieked, clutching a large pot of beef stew. "This has been cooking for _hours_ and Mrs Patmore'll have my guts for garters if it's spilt all over the floor!"

Thomas grimaced theatrically. "To be honest, Daisy, I don't want to know about Mrs Patmore's garters, thank you very much. Not before dinner, anyway." But he smiled at her and helped her carry the pot from the stove to the serving side.

Daisy looked at him curiously. "Thomas...sorry, _Mr Barrow_...are you feeling all right tonight?"

"Of course I am! Right as rain! What makes you say that, Daisy?"

"Well...it's just...you're _smiling? _Like, an _actual smile?" _Only Daisy could come out with a sentence like that and not make it sound like sarcasm.

Thomas reached out a hand and ran his finger down her cheek, brushing away a spot of flour that had made it's way onto her face. An unusual gesture that would have had Daisy squealing with delight 10 years ago, just confused her even more now. "Oh Daisy, even under-butlers are allowed to smile sometimes you know."

"But you hardly ever smile. Except when you're with Jimmy. And he's not here, is he?"

"No, he's not," confirmed Thomas. _And for the first time in two years, that doesn't bother me so much. Hmm. It must be love...no, not love - not yet. Just a bit of fun for now. He's only here for a month anyway, and then he'll be going back to America..._

Realising he was staring absent-mindedly into the distance, Thomas looked down to Daisy's face still on his, waiting for an explanation. Changing the subject, he remembered what he had promised himself a few weeks ago.

"Anyway, enough about me. What about you, Daisy?" He asked, as she stirred the pot of stew.

"What _about _me? I don't know what you mean, Mr Barrow."

"Well, how is it going on the farm with Mr Mason? I know that you spend all your free time down there now. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave service and live there. It's not like you're getting any younger stuck down here!" Thomas hoped Daisy would sense the humour in his last sentence.

"Oh, thanks Mr Barrow! How flattering of you!" Said Daisy, but she smiled to show she wasn't offended. It was nice of Thomas to take an interest at all, if she was honest. "It's going really well, thanks. Mr Mason is so kind. Every time I go there he looks at me as though he's hoping I'll say I'm not going to leave. But it's such a huge change, and a commitment."

"Personally, I think you're mad for staying here. Working on your own farm with all those young farm hands? You'd have your pick of the lot of them!" _I wouldn't mind it meself, if I'm honest._

"Don't be daft! As if any of them would be interested in _me!_" Daisy laughed, her cheeks reddening, and not just from the steam rising from the pot.

"Well, why not? A lovely young lass like you! Any man would be mad not to want you to be his girl."

Daisy looked at the floor. "Well, _you _didn't, did yer? So not _any _man."

Thomas shifted a little uncomfortably onto his left foot. "But that's different, and you know it," he said quietly. He had always felt a little bad for stringing Daisy along for so long, especially at William's expense. He thought Daisy would have guessed his preferences long before she did, but if he was honest with himself, he liked the attention. She had been one of the only servants who didn't think badly of him, and it was only with hindsight that he realised it was probably because she didn't judge him evil.

Daisy, realising that she'd put her foot in it somewhat, continued. "Nor Alfred. He's not interested in me neither. I don't know why I always pick the wrong ones. David always says: 'All the best people–"

Thomas' ears pricked up. "Who's David?" He asked, curious.

"Oh, he's just Mr Mason's nephew who visits the farm sometimes. Anyway, he says: 'All the–"

Thomas interrupted Daisy again. "Is he handsome?"

Daisy looked taken aback. "David? Handsome?" She screwed up her face, deep in thought. "I s'pose so. And he's really nice. And funny. Why do you ask?" She looked at him, and her face changed completely to one of mirth. "Oh, Mr Barrow. I'm sorry, but I don't think David's– " she lowered her voice to a theatrical whisper "– one of _your sort_, if that's what you're thinking!"

Thomas would have laughed at Daisy's incorrect assumption, if he hadn't been feeling a little embarrassed. "No, Daisy! I wasn't asking for _me,_ I was asking for you!"

"Oh!" Daisy thought for a moment. "But...no! I don't think that's a good idea. He's William's _cousin_, in't he? Wouldn't that be _wrong_?"

Thomas rolled his eyes in despair. "No Daisy, it wouldn't be wrong. What would be wrong is if this poor man has to wait around for you, dropping hints, flirting and the like...and you are still moping around after Alfred!"

"But I don't think David likes me like that. I think he just sees me as a friend."

"Well, there's only one way to find out!" Thomas said.

"And what's that, then?" Asked Daisy, confused.

"Ask him, of course!" Thomas wished he didn't have to spell things out for her so much as he did.

Daisy looked shocked. "Oh, I daren't!"

"Have I stepped into a time machine?" Mrs Patmore had appeared, flustered and red-faced. "Have I in fact travelled back ten years or am I indeed witness to my kitchen assistant once again being distracted by none other than Mr Barrow? Shoo!"

Thomas knew better than to anger Mrs Patmore. Shooting a look at Daisy that said _Ask him!_ And smiling to himself at the terrified look she gave him in return, he took his leave, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and walking out the back door. Lighting up, Thomas mulled over his thoughts as he took the first drag.

* * *

The servants' dinner was more interesting than usual. This was due, in part if not in entirety, because O'Brien still hadn't shown her face. Carson and Mrs Hughes exchanged dark looks, not wanting to talk openly in front of the other servants. The housemaids were whispering amongst themselves, and Jimmy was nudging Alfred for information. Alfred, however, looked as puzzled as everybody else.

"No, I don't know where she is, so stop askin'!" He said, irritated both by the constant questioning, and the fact that his aunt hadn't enlightened him, either.

"Sorry!" Jimmy held his hands up. "I just thought you might know!"

"Are you sure you've checked everywhere? She can't be that difficult to find. Not with her hair as it is!" Joked Thomas, although only the maids laughed.

Alfred looked down at the table. "She's not in the house. All her stuff's gone from her room, too."

"Oh!" Thomas now realised the seriousness of the situation. "You mean, she's _actually _gone? Left the house? Blimey! I bet her Ladyship isn't too pleased."

"That's enough, now Mr Barrow. Let's not speculate any further." Carson's words were calm, but his composure suggested otherwise. "Anna, you shall see to her Ladyship tonight. And that reminds me, Mr Barrow," he said, turning to face the under-butler once more. "Mr Levinson has requested that you accompany him to London next weekend. We can spare you, of course, but ultimately it is up to you. I would understand if you wanted to remain here. Mr Levinson is not a permanent occupant of this house and as such he does not have the power to 'borrow' a valet as he pleases."

Thomas could tell that Carson had not taken to Harry at all well. It was ironic how Carson was trying to allow Thomas to wriggle out of his duties, when Thomas could think of nothing he would like more than to go to London with Harry. Hoping his face didn't betray him, he replied, "Well, if I must, Mr Carson. I suppose His Lordship would be grateful to know that someone was keeping a watchful eye on the number of ladies Mr Levinson cavorts with." He looked up and saw that Jimmy was looking at him, a look of amusement on his face.

"Very well. I must say I am impressed with the way you _handle _our house guest. It is not professional of me to say it, but I'm not sure that _I _would be able to hold my tongue around him when he talks so openly of frolicking with young ladies." Mrs Hughes shot a look at Carson, and he decided he would talk no more on the subject.

Thomas, meanwhile, was trying to keep a straight face at the praise of being able to _handle _Harry impressively. _And I would love to hold my tongue around Harry_, he thought, naughtily. He decided he'd better leave the table before he thought too much into what he _hoped _would happen next time he saw Harry, and headed out for a smoke.

Surprisingly, he was followed shortly by Jimmy, who looked a little awkward. "Can I join yer?" He asked, quietly.

Thomas was pleased to see him. "Of course you can, Jimmy! It's all a bit tense in there in't it, with O'Brien going missing and the like. God knows where she's gone. I can't believe she would just up and leave like that, without a word..." Thomas looked at Jimmy, and realised he was looking quite upset. "Actually...I'm glad to get you on your own. I want to apologise for losing my patience with you, when you were telling me about your girl. I know it can't be easy. I should have just listened, and not judged you. I mean, who am I to say what _you _do in your spare time?"

Jimmy smiled weakly. "Thank you for saying that. But...I've been thinking about it, and you're right. One day we will need to decide what we are going to do. We can't just live like this forever. It's too painful."

"When's the next time you see her?" Thomas asked.

"Next weekend," Jimmy replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well, then, _talk _to her. I don't know how to help you, but as you said, you can't live like this forever. It's not good for you. I can see it's eating away at you, and you're far too young to have so many worries." Thomas couldn't quite believe how much relationship advice he was dishing out today. _As if I know anything about a real relationship!_

Jimmy nodded slowly. "I'll talk to her. Maybe she will consider leaving it all behind for me. I know I'd do the same for her! Not that I know what it feels like to be rich, but I'd like to think that love would be more important than money."

"Oh, it is, that much is true. It's taken me long enough to realise it though, I'll tell you." Thomas sighed. He hoped that the talk between Jimmy and his girl would prove fruitful. He hated to see Jimmy not looking himself.

Jimmy, afraid he was going to become tearful at all this talk of love, turned his attentions to Thomas' love-life instead. "Talking of next weekend...I take it from your 'trying to look professional and un-bothered when actually you're jumping for joy inside' face that you put on when Carson asked you about valeting Mr Levinson next weekend, that you managed to sort things out with him?"

Thomas snorted at the thought that Jimmy had come to know him so well. "Blimey, you should be a detective with those observational skills!" He laughed. "But yes, you might say we sorted things out."

Jimmy held his hands up. "Well, spare me the details, I don't want to know. As long as you know what you're doing this time?"

"Hang on, weren't you the one telling me to go for it?" Thomas asked, in disbelief.

"I know, I know!" Protested Jimmy, but he kept his tone light. "Don't get all defensive on me now! I just meant, I don't want you to get hurt, is all. But I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"I'm touched, Jimmy, really," said Thomas, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He thought of Harry, and smiled. "But yes, I think this time I _do _know what I'm doing. Harry is, just...very refreshing. And talking of which, it must be time for me to go and see to his needs."

Jimmy rolled his eyes in mock disgust.

Thomas rushed to correct him. "To undress him, I mean!" _Hmm, that doesn't sound any better._

Jimmy gasped theatrically at Thomas' openness, prompting Thomas to shove him playfully. "Oh, you know what I mean! In a professional capacity, of course!"

_Of course! _Thought Thomas and Jimmy simultaneously. _Not._

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**A/N: Sorry for the lack of slash and/or Harry! They will both make an appearance in Chapter 8! Oh, and to anyone wanting more clues as to the actor I have in mind for Harry - let's just say he isn't a stranger to the Doctor!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the MASSIVE WAIT between the previous chapter, and this one. I admit, I ****_have _****been struggling with my writing lately, due to being busy, and possibly spending too much time on Tumblr! There are loads of talented fanfic writers out there and I feel like my writing isn't up to the same standard as theirs, which gives me writers' block! I hope that this little chapter is ok. It is mainly just slash! And thank you to everyone who is still reading and reviewing, it really helps you know!**

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Thomas headed off inside and made his way up to Harry's room. He wasn't sure whether Harry would be expecting to be undressed or not, or indeed whether it would be Harry doing the undressing again.

Upon opening the door, Thomas was immediately aroused to see that Harry had decided to undress himself, and was waiting in the large four-poster bed, the covers hiding everything below his waist. He stood at the door, hovering, waiting for Harry to beckon him over.

"Good evening, Thomas!" Called Harry from the bed. "I thought I'd save you the hassle of undressing me. Would you care to join me tonight?"

Wild horses could not have kept Thomas away. He moved as gracefully over to the bed as he could muster with a semi, which caused Harry great amusement. "Even at a time like this, you're always the figure of elegance. Which I find extremely arousing. Now, take off you clothes and get into bed. I want to feel your body."

Thomas removed his clothes hurriedly but carefully, folding them up onto a nearby chair. All the while, Harry was watching him, still fascinated by the English-ness of the under-butler. When Thomas was left in only his undergarments, he paused, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden.

Harry eyed him and smiled. "Gee, I undress you once and you forget how to do it yourself?" He joked.

Thomas looked at the floor. "Sorry...I suppose this is all a bit new to me..."

"New? You mean, you've never...?" Harry looked surprised.

Thomas corrected him immediately. "Oh, yes, I _have _done...well, you know...I just meant that before, it was always a quick grope on the bed, or pressed up against a wall...the others would _never _have allowed me to undress and join them _under the covers _of their beds. They always kept control of things – that's how they liked it, I suppose." He slipped tentatively into the bed beside Harry, still in his undergarments.

"Well, Thomas, I'm not them. I'm me, and I like to do things differently. I'm not some stuck up, overbearing Earl or Duke, who likes to assert his authority in the bedroom just so he can justify sleeping with men as something other than what it is – physical attraction! Ok, I admit, I lie in public about who I'm attracted to – we have to! But once I'm behind closed doors, I'm not ashamed...and you shouldn't be, either."

Thomas had thought of the Duke when Harry had been speaking. Philip had been exactly as Harry had described – hungry for sex, always the one on top, in control. Thomas had thought foolishly that Philip had loved him, but he hadn't. He had used Thomas, and it had hurt so much when he realised it. He shook his head.

"I'm not ashamed neither, I'm not."

"Well, then," said Harry, turning onto his side to face Thomas. "Let's get these clothes off so we can 'not be ashamed' together."

Smiling, Thomas allowed Harry to run his hands underneath his top. Harry had obviously been waiting for Thomas for a while, as he was as warm as toast under the expensive duvet cover. His hands snaked upwards, pulling at Thomas' top until it was bunching by his neck. Thomas helped Harry to pull it over his head, and flung it on the floor carelessly.

Harry reached up his hand to brush a lock of hair out of Thomas' eyes, and kissed him with urgency. Thomas allowed himself to melt into the kiss, and Harry wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling their warm bodies together.

Thomas gasped at the contact; it had been such a long time since he had been allowed to indulge in another man's body, and he wasted no time in caressing Harry's back, massaging little circles downwards until reaching his naked behind.

"Mmmm, and I thought you were shy?" flinched Harry as Thomas ran a finger between his firm buttocks.

"Sorry," mumbled Thomas, retracting his hand immediately. "I just got a bit carried away."

Harry grabbed Thomas' hand and shoved it back to where it had been just moments before. "Oi! I didn't say I wanted you to stop, did I?! It's just a little ticklish, that's all," he said with a wink.

Thomas smiled as Harry kissed his neck, and was painfully aware that he was still wearing his underpants. His erection strained against them. As if Harry could read his mind, he hooked his thumbs around the waistband and pulled them down, eliciting a gasp from Thomas as his erection sprang free and rubbed against Harry's own.

"That's better!" Said Harry, grinding his hips into Thomas. "Man, that feels good!"

Thomas couldn't agree more. Overcome with lust, he wrapped one leg around Harry's waist and kissed him wantonly. He could hardly believe this was happening. Harry, amused that Thomas had transformed into such an animal in bed, whispered into Thomas' ear.

"I want you to screw me."

Thomas obediently removed his hand from where it was teasing Harry's entrance, and slid it around to Harry's erection, grabbing it and squeezing gently.

But Harry grasped his wrist to stop him. "No, not that. I want you to turn me over, and fuck me in the ass. Hard," he gasped.

Thomas looked at Harry and faltered for a moment. "But...are you sure?" He said, worry spreading across his chiselled features.

Harry looked surprised. "Of course I'm sure! Why wouldn't I be?" He was disappointed to see that Thomas had retracted back to his former nervous self. He stroked Thomas' face, trying to reassure him that he wanted this more than anything.

"Erm...well you remember that I said that I'd done this before?" He asked. Harry nodded. "Well, I have...sort of. But I've never been the one to actually, _do it. _I've only had it done _to me_."

"Really?! I can't believe that!" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That hardly seems fair now, does it? But it makes sense I suppose. If all these Dukes and Lords like to be in control, and deny their true selves, it fits that they wouldn't want another man's penis in their ass. Might force them to admit that they're not actually into women!"

Thomas couldn't help but smile at how astute Harry was. _I wish I could put these things as 'eloquently' as he does!_ He pressed a small kiss onto Harry's cheek, and waited for him to turn over onto his front. Harry didn't move, staying propped up on his side.

Thomas waited. Harry looked at him, his eyes trying to tell him what to do. Thomas understood. "Oh! You want _me _to turn you over?"

Harry rolled his eyes playfully, confirming to Thomas that yes, he did want him to turn him over. "And don't be pussy-footing about it either. Be rough with me. I like it. Pretend I'm the lowly servant and you're a, Duke, or something."

Thomas didn't need any other prompting. Remembering, almost painfully, how the Duke used to treat him when they were alone, he grabbed Harry's waist and slammed it towards the bed so that Harry was face down. _Oh, this is quite exciting!_ He thought, grabbing Harry's backside and digging in his nails.

Thomas spat on his hand and slicked himself up. His erection was aching and leaking already, and although he was nervous about what he was about to do, he was ridiculously turned on. Harry's entrance looked so inviting.

Harry ground himself against the bed, and Thomas knew he couldn't wait any longer. He pressed against Harry, allowing himself to enter him a little. He knew from experience that it hurt, and couldn't bear the thought of hurting anyone in this way. But Harry reached his hands behind and coaxed Thomas further in, willing him to fill him completely.

Thomas thrust hard, and both the men groaned loudly. Thomas felt his eyes roll back as he plunged into Harry's heat, the unfamiliar sensation gripping his mind and body with pleasure. Harry bucked uncontrollably, and Thomas froze, worrying that he'd hurt him.

Harry, sensing that Thomas had stopped, twisted his head round. "What are you stopping for? It was just getting to the good part! I need you to fuck me, Thomas."

Thomas didn't need to be told again. He pulled out and slammed back in, sending waves of arousal washing over both of them. _This is amazing,_ he thought to himself. _No wonder Philip never let me do it, the selfish bastard. Damn! Must _stop _comparing Harry to Philip! Harry's..._Thomas retracted..._fucking..._he pushed back in..._amazing!_

Thomas leant down to kiss Harry's back, knowing that he couldn't last much longer and wanting to press as much of their skin together as he could. Harry moaned in appreciation at the slight change in position, enjoying the feel of Thomas' chest pinning him onto the bed. Thomas grabbed Harry's wrists and pinned them to the bed also.

"Yes! Like that! Oh God, don't stop!" Harry grunted, thrusting into the bed in time with Thomas' own pushes.

Thomas increased the speed and his legs began to shake as his orgasm approached. He bit into Harry's neck to stifle his cry as he came, and collapsed onto Harry, breathing heavily.

He felt Harry shudder beneath him and guessed he had reached his climax, too. Thomas felt a little selfish for stopping after his own, but Harry turned his head round to kiss him, a large grin on his face.

"God Almighty! That was...wow!" Said Harry. "And you promise you've never done that before?!"

Thomas shook his head, his hair flopping over his forehead as he did so. "Never. I hope it was satisfactory for you?"

"You bet your cute ass it was!"

Thomas grinned as he removed himself from Harry's spent body. Harry turned over, cringing slightly at the mess he had left of the bed underneath him. "Oops! Oh well, I'm sure the housemaids have seen worse. I bet they're always gossiping about the state of the bedrooms after guests leave!"

Thomas searched his memory. "Actually, you'd be surprised. I can't speak for any other guests, but the, er, _gentry_ that I've known have been very careful not to leave any trace of _shenanigans _behind. They have their reputations at stake, and they've mainly been hoping to marry Lady Mary for her fortune. It wouldn't have looked good for them to show signs of _self-indulgence_ in their hosts' beds."

"I suppose so. Oops again!" Harry flashed Thomas his dazzling smile, and Thomas melted. Ignoring the scandalous wet patch, he lay down on his side, facing Harry who was now doing the same. Thomas looked at Harry through his eyelashes, hardly daring to ask the question that was going round in his head.

"I don't suppose we can do that again, sometime?" He asked, bashfully. Harry laughed and punched Thomas playfully in the shoulder.

"Are you joking? Of course we can! I'll definitely be needing some more of _that _before I go back home!"

Thomas smiled weakly, a little sad at the thought of Harry going back to America. Harry saw his face drop and cursed himself for mentioning it. "But we won't talk about that just now. We've got a trip to London to plan!"

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**A/N: Next chapter - trip to London! I'll try not to keep you waiting for so long! Thank you as always for reading :o)**


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